


Never Insult Master's Pet

by EasyTiga



Series: What It Takes to Be a Good Pet [3]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: All of the Events That Occur Between Them in This Fic, And All of the Other Ones Are Entirely Consensual, BAMF Jensen, Come Swallowing, Do Not Insult Jensen's Pet, Dom Jensen Ackles, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, If You're Expecting Jared to Not Be Obedient, Jared Has Agreed to Be Jensen's Full Time Pet, M/M, Master Jensen Ackles, Master/Pet, Obedience, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Jared Padalecki, Sub Jared Padalecki, This is Not Forced Compliance, Total Power Exchange, You're in the wrong place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26859901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EasyTiga/pseuds/EasyTiga
Summary: PLEASE READ THE TAGS BEFORE CLICKING ON THIS“Why didn’t you move, you stupid idiot?!”Several mouths part in a short gasp as the words filter through the air, Jensen’s hands stilling for one single moment before continuing as if nothing had happened, head turning to face the stain that thought it was okay for them to address and insult his pet.“Do not speak to my pet,” Jensen delivers with a calm facade. He snaps his fingers. Three of his subordinates apprehend the culprit, and Jensen throws his hand up in Royce’s face. “You and your men have seconds to get out of my house. If you refuse, I will give the signal to shut us in. And I can promise you, the only way you'll leave is in a body bag."
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Series: What It Takes to Be a Good Pet [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920880
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Never Insult Master's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> I want to say, again, that this is a total control relationship, so--although it's not the focus of this fic in the series--, you should fully expect that there will be times where Jared is punished, especially in the earlier days of their relationship. If you don't want to read about Jared being punished or trained or obedient, then you should avoid this series. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy the read. :>
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing this.

The breeze grazes Jensen’s cheek and creases the damp sheet held between his hands. He waits for it to pass, nodding at his pet, who patiently anticipates his next command, kneeling on the soft astroturf, laid explicitly for this purpose. Its design ensures comfort, and, so far, Jensen hasn’t had to kneecap anyone for feeding him false information.

Jensen throws the sheet over the line, pinching the middle. His pet is quick to adhere to the wave of his hand, depositing two pegs in his palm.

“Good pet,” he says, attaching the wooden clamps to either end of the sheet.

Together, they work quietly, filling the line with their weeks worth of washed clothing. The mood is peaceful, pleasant, and Jensen finds himself brandishing a small smile. He turns that onto Jared, stroking a hand through his hair.

Patting his leg signals Jared to rest against it, and Jensen extends his reach, smoothing down Jared’s locks, tickling the soft hairs at the nape of his neck.

Jared preens under his attention, bronzed skin breaking out in small bumps. It pleases Jensen that his pet knows not to vocalise his enjoyment unless told to. He can’t recall the number of occurrences where Jared broke that specific rule.

Now, he thinks of it fondly. Before, it was an insult to his position as Jared’s Master. Each instance of his (intentional or unintentional) disobedience started a fire in Jensen’s mind that wouldn't submit, the flames growing ever stronger the more his pet failed to comprehend his words.

Every failure of Jared’s was, and is, a failure of his. He accepts full responsibility for his possessions.

His pet is his _most_ important possession.

If people have the slightest iota of intelligence, there is by no means any need for him to remind them of this simple fact. Jared is—always will be—irrevocably Jensen’s. There is no _number,_ no _but,_ no _offer_ they could present to him that would compare.

That is absolute. To suggest otherwise is a one-way ticket to an early grave, and one or two despots have found themselves in that position, by his hand, because they dared even to imagine taking Jared away from him—

Soft hair brushes his hand, the angry buzzing in his mind’s eye teetering out. Part of Jensen protests the ease at which Jared’s presence smoothes out the wrinkle between his eyes. So effortlessly, he uncurls fingers that have bathed in the blood of countless nameless faces—fingers primed for gouging, yet somehow graceful enough to feed Jared without letting a morsel go to waste, cleansed by the soft flat of his pet’s tongue.

“Come on, Pet. Let’s get back inside,” Jensen says, taking hold of Jared’s leash. He starts walking, Jared matching steps beside him on all fours, the muscles in his back shifting with each pace covered. “As you know, I’ll be hosting tonight, so I expect you to be on your best behavior. I assume I don’t have to remind you what that entails, Pet?” Jared shakes his head fractionally, keeping his gaze locked on Jensen’s face. “Very good. The event will last approximately five hours, and you’ll use your bathroom before then in order to be ready to kneel until told otherwise.”

Jared tips his head so minutely Jensen wouldn’t have caught it were he not attuned to every molecule of his pet’s form.

Back inside the house, Jensen leads Jared to the living room. He decides that he wants to pass a bit of time watching mindless garbage on the TV, using the opportunity to switch his brain off for an hour or two.

While he sits, not taking in what’s happening on the screen, Jared kneels by his right leg, gaze locked on his face, as it should be. Jensen gifts his pet with a light ruffling of his hair, a stroke to his chin, knuckles grazing his cheek.

Jensen enjoys touching Jared. He appreciates the soft texture of his skin, the perpetual heat warming his hands in seconds. Indeed an excellent thing to have around when the temperatures have dropped. Who needs an extra blanket or even a bed warmer when Jensen has a human radiator he can hold close to his chest?

Shaking his head at his thought, Jensen shuts off the TV.

Time drags by while he watches his pet watch him, fingers skating along the slope of Jared’s broad shoulders, curling around his wide neck to press his fingers into the base of his pet’s skull. He digs deep, working the soft tissue, allowing Jared to relax his head into the sensation. His forehead settles on Jensen’s thigh, and he continues to work through knots he missed the night before, shushing Jared when he tenses a little.

It’s a sore spot. His pet started nodding off during a kneeling session, which Jensen had to reprimand, swiftly. He employed a method that he learned during his travels, attaching a small protruding spike to Jared’s collar, ensuring that he knew that whenever he thought about dropping his head, for any reason, he would suffer the sharp end against his neck. For one whole week, Jared didn’t so much as falter in his posture, and it was a glorious sight to behold.

Success aside, the tension from knowing that a potentially lethal spike was keeping him prisoner knotted up Jared’s neck rather spectacularly. Jensen would rather his pet not suffer in ways that he hasn’t permitted, but it’s not possible to serve up omelettes without breaking a few eggs, first.

He bears down on a particularly stubborn knot. Jared stays still, the only sign that he’s remotely affected appearing in the form of barely noticeable redness converging at the centre of his spine. Jensen could kiss him. Not right now, however. Too much of anything and his pet will start _expecting_ it, which is something he simply cannot have.

“You won’t be falling asleep without permission again any time soon, will you, Pet?” The question is rhetorical. Jared is aware of this, and it shows with how he doesn’t react. “Good boy.”

===

Regardless of the fact that he’s the one hosting this event (for reasons that still remain a mystery, even to himself) Jensen would rather be someplace else—just him and his pet. These people may be his guests, but they’re also responsible for his current state of annoyance, nose wrinkling as one of them laughs in response to something lacking any amount of humor or wit.

Simpleton comes to mind.

Staring at their gormless faces reminds him that he did a good job selecting his subordinates. Not one of these miscreants holds a candle, stumbling over themselves, dancing merrily to a non-existent beat.

There is no music playing, yet they bob and weave like mindless gibbons. Although, upon closer inspection, it’s not a far cry from the truth.

Jensen’s not impressed. The one thing remotely pleasing about this is his pet’s ideal posture. His eyes are trained on Jensen, back straight, hands on his knees, head upright. It’s perfect. Nothing is off about his stance, and Jensen can’t help but feel a spike of arousal each time he spots the reverence in Jared’s everchanging eyes.

The gaze transmits that they’re not currently surrounded by people, which pleases the monster scratching at the wall of Jensen’s mind, dissatisfied by anyone else being in the same room as Jared. They’re also breathing Jared’s air. Until Jensen has a device in his possession that is capable of preventing this, it’s something he has to accept reluctantly.

Having random strangers eyeing his pet is making Jensen bristle, trigger finger itching to make them eat a bullet. Rationally, he understands that they’re not aware that Jared is not to be acknowledged. That does not stop his teeth from grinding behind his false, thin-lipped smile each time their eyes linger.

Jensen’s subordinates do well to disregard his pet’s presence in the room. Jared is not meant to be seen or heard by anyone other than himself, and they fear the consequences for so much as glancing at him. Some have been unfortunate enough to make that mistake—one that they would be asinine even to consider repeating; _those_ that left with their eyeballs intact.

The reason these imbeciles are not currently six-feet under is due to a potential deal between Jensen and their leader. He shakes his head. The things he's loath to put up with in this business are nothing short of exasperating. Far too many times he’s had to suffer in silence, opting to (albeit with great hesitance) take the route that preserves the most amount of lives to ensure that he wins favor or seizes control of beneficial assets.

While some of his followers may be willing to lay down their life for him without rhyme or reason, Jensen is not heartless. Insignificant deaths are not something that he wants on his hands.

If all goes according to plan, Jensen will have free distribution in Chicago and Boston, two places he’s yet to make proper ground in.

Not that he’s tried exceptionally hard. He’s optimistic that if he had wanted to stake his claim at any point after his ascension, a red carpet would have greeted his arrival, desperate fools vying for his attention with wide-open arms.

This is what one would label a convenience. The fastest route. _Easiest._ The leader of this so-called _organisation_ is an embarrassment, unaware that he and his cohorts are swimming in shark-infested waters. It will be too late before he realises his open wound is violating the sanctity of the ocean's depths. By then, someone will have considered themselves voracious enough to settle for mediocre.

In any event, the deal will take place shortly. Or, Jensen will threaten to execute the man’s entire unit. Whichever comes first. The important part is that it happens soon, for his patience is wearing rather thin.

For a while now, Jensen’s ears have withstood the grating voice of this plebeian, his lips quirking in artless smiles, hand seeking out the warmth of his pet’s neck when the blood pumping through his veins reaches a fever pitch. Jared burns hot, and Jensen appreciates the ease at which it bleeds into his skin, diverting his attention away from the sparks of irritation hissing along the cerebral tracks, grinding to a halt as the tension leaks out of him—for now.

“Tell me, Ackles, do you ever wonder where you would be now without power?”

Jensen’s first thought would be that he wouldn’t be currently staving off a headache.

“We _have_ power. There’s no need for us to trouble ourselves with those types of thoughts, Royce.” He decides to omit the part about this _pest_ not being fit enough to shine his least expensive pair of shoes. “This is a day to celebrate, not get bogged down in the what-ifs, right?”

While Royce nods his head and strokes his poorly groomed face, Jensen glides his thumb over Jared’s bottom lip, soothed by the soft mouth sealing around his digit, his pet’s tongue motionless until Jensen taps his cheek once.

“I suppose you’re right. Might I ask what you plan to do once you’ve got your foot in the door?”

Jensen manages to keep the scornful look out of his eyes as he replies. Royce isn’t even worth being told that he’s nothing more than an ant, to Jensen.

“That would be a spoiler,” Jensen deflects easily, enjoying the languid swipes of Jared’s tongue. “And I never kiss and tell.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Royce replies, winking. It’s not a come on, but Jensen feels equally as disgusted as though it were, thumb bearing down on the flat of Jared’s tongue. “Anyway, Ackles, I’d say it’s about time we sign this deal, yeah?”

That’s perhaps the only intelligent thing this vermin has said.

Jensen offers a somewhat genuine smile as he extracts his thumb from Jared’s mouth and strokes his cheek. “No arguments here, Royce,” he says, unlatching his pen from his front pocket. “I’m ready when you are.”

Royce snatches a briefcase out of one his lackey's hands, stubby fingers preparing to unclasp the bolts. Jensen’s nose scrunches imperceptibly at the careless way in which he handles it—

A glass shatters on the floor to Jensen’s right, silencing every conversation at once. All eyes flick to the scene (Jensen’s included), taking in the shards of expensive whisky-stained glass scattered like fallen leaves. The lethal jagged edges are dangerously close to his pet, who’s staring unerringly at him—hasn’t moved a single muscle. The obedience makes Jensen’s cock twitch in interest, and he takes in a breath, catching his pet’s gaze, body heating from the stratospheric adoration projecting onto him.

There is a good chance that Jared could have sustained some injuries—a few cuts, at most—and all he did was remain kneeling, never once wavering in his devotion.

Jensen couldn’t be prouder, eyes briefly tearing away to scan the rest of the scene. He catalogues the clumsy drunkard that’s responsible for not only breaking one of his most expensive glasses but for having the nerve to even accidentally risk causing harm to his most precious possession.

“Good pet,” he praises, scritching his hands through Jared’s hair, attempting to draw strength from his soft, wavy locks—enough that he doesn’t go nuclear.

Jared keeps his eyes on him, unaware of anyone around them. Perhaps, even, unaware of the glass smashing by his side at all.

“Why didn’t you move, you stupid idiot?!”

Several mouths part in a short gasp as the words filter through the air, Jensen’s hands stilling for one single moment before continuing as if nothing had happened, head turning to face the _stain_ that thought it was _okay_ for them to _address_ and _insult_ his pet.

“Do not _speak_ to my _pet,_ ” Jensen delivers with a calm facade. He snaps his fingers. Three of his subordinates apprehend the culprit, and Jensen throws his hand up in Royce’s face. “You and your men have seconds to get out of my house. If you refuse, I will give the signal to shut us in. And I can promise you, the only way you'll leave is in a body bag."

“Ackles, be reasonable—what about the deal?”

“You can take your deal and stick it where the sun doesn’t shine. _No one_ disrespects my pet. Up, Boy.” Jared raises his arms and crosses his ankles around the small of Jensen’s back. He regards the three holding his captive. “ _He_ stays. The rest of them better be out by the time I’m done seeing to my pet, or you’ll _all_ be pushing up daisies.”

Without waiting any longer, Jensen carries Jared out of the room, down the stairs to the first floor and into the kitchen. He tells Jared he can smell him, that he’s earned it. And his pet does, breathing him in deep and sighing in relief, sagging against his chest, tucking his head into Jensen’s neck.

It astonishes him how Jared can make himself so small for him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t get off on it.

“You did so good, sweetheart. Master’s so proud of you,” Jensen says, tapping Jared’s ass. His pet unhooks immediately, reverting to his kneeling position by the side of Jensen’s chair. Jensen retrieves a jar of sweets from the pet pantry and takes his seat. “Up you get, Pet.”

Jared’s eyebrow lifts the slightest bit before he perches on Jensen’s right leg, laying his head on its side on one shoulder.

“Good boy. Such a good pet for me today. Didn’t even flinch when that moron dropped that glass by you,” Jensen acknowledges, unscrewing the lid to reach in and take hold of a gummy worm. “Good pets get treats. And you more than earned this, my sweet boy.”

The body on his lap warms at the appreciation, gooseflesh rising on every visible strip of skin.

“Open up for Master.” Holding the flimsy candy between his fingers, Jensen guides it through Jared’s parted lips, letting Jared taste his skin along with the treat. Jared suckles on both until Jensen pulls his digits back, stroking his pet’s thighs, chest and stomach while he chews delightedly. “That’s my good pet. Master’s glad you weren’t injured, considering. Don’t you worry, though. I’ll make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”

Jensen rests the tips of his fingers on Jared’s lip, letting him lick the sweetness off before he grabs another gummy, this time putting it between his own teeth. He brings his head closer to his pet, fondness in his eyes while Jared latches onto the opposite end, breaking off sections bit by bit. Jensen doesn’t admonish him for postponing the meeting of their lips. His pet has proven himself worthy of savouring the moment.

When he reaches the last connecting part, Jared lingers, tip of his tongue circling the edge, eyes glassy. Jensen watches them slide shut in pleasure, quivering under the weight of his mouth, their skin melding, soft flesh refusing to let go at the break.

Jensen unhinges his jaw to release the treat, warm breath fanning Jared’s lips. There’s a pregnant pause, his pet holding the gelatinous mass just past the tip, kaleidoscopic eyes resolved to gaze longingly at his, the barest hint of a request visible around the mesh of vibrant colors.

“Do you want Master to kiss you, Pet?”

If he says anything or reacts physically, Jensen won’t give it to him. He’s hopeful that his pet understands enough by now that he won’t disappoint the both of them. Jensen believes in his ability as a Master, and he trusts that Jared’s training hasn’t gone to waste, so he won’t blindly assume the worst.

And, to his delight, Jared’s body does not waver. His eyes don’t flicker. His mouth doesn’t even quirk. He’s waiting for Jensen to make that decision for him, for Jensen to prove that he always knows best where his pet is concerned, that Jensen will never let any good deed go unrewarded, the same as how he would punish the bad ones.

“Excellent, Pet,” Jensen says against Jared’s lips. “Finish your treat first.”

Jared does, all too eagerly, throat bobbing as the sugary mass begins its descent. The instant it’s safe, Jensen closes the distance, sweet and chaste for a few beats before thrusting his tongue inside the warmth of Jared’s mouth, tasting the mix of gummy worms and his pet, hands shifting Jared until his ass is on his lap, feet sweeping the floor.

He takes and takes, biting down on Jared’s bottom lip, prying his mouth open with ease. Not that he met much resistance, Jared’s tongue joining his, presented for Jensen to tease, hand snaking down the back of Jared’s shorts. He hates having to put him in shorts, but Jensen would rather not deal with the clean up if anyone ventured a look at Jared’s sculpted ass.

Beneath the layer of leather, Jensen squeezes and kneads the flesh, his other hand diving in, too, pulling Jared towards him, kissing him long and deep as he strokes fingers over his pet’s hole and digs into the meat. Jared submits completely, ass tilting back, feet bracing on the floor.

Jensen’s throat clicks, remembering how that _rodent_ spoke to his pet. It spurs him into lifting Jared off his lap and laying him out on the counter, yanking his shorts off in one swift pull.

He palms his pet’s cock. “Master wants you to come, Pet,” he says, placing one leg over his shoulder, grinding his cock against the back of Jared’s thigh.

Below his palm, Jared’s cock jerks to life, filling with blood, fattening out and growing up to beyond his navel. Jensen smirks, never dissatisfied by the spectacle of his rigorous teachings, hand closing around Jared’s girth, grip loose.

Jared’s cock throbs, bumping Jensen’s palm. “It’s been some time, hasn’t it, Pet?” Pre-come drips down to the seal of Jensen’s hand. “So responsive, sweetheart. You want to come, don’t you? You want to make a mess of yourself just for me, right?” It jerks multiple times in his hand in response. He’s not even stroking him, only holding him in a lax grip.

“That’s a good pet. Show Master how much you want it. Come on now,” Jensen instructs, arousal reaching the next tier as his pet squirms and writhes, breathy whimpers falling from his lips. His hips twist, toes curling, eyes scrunching up. Jensen watches his stomach contract, feels his hole closing around air and retreating from where the stretch of his erection behind his slacks rubs the flesh of his ass. “You can do better than that, my sweet pet.”

Jared’s body twitches, his throat closes up, his legs tense and relax. Jensen holds him in his hand, transfixed as Jared’s neck tilts side to side, fingers curling into fists, arms rippling, ass shifting. It tells Jensen that he’s trying not to buck, not to push into the grip, not to take his own pleasure, the effort of it causing him to perspire all over, thin hair sticking to his face, lips looking dry as a bone as he pants.

“That’s it, Pet. You’re doing so good. Master’s gonna jerk you off now,” Jensen says and licks the palm of his hand. Jared keens, head smacking down, cock blurting out a pea-sized glob onto his glistening stomach. He licks his palm again and hovers the slick skin over Jared’s cock. He can practically feel the heat dispersing from Jared’s reactive body, tips of his pet’s fingers rubbing the countertop, creating a dull sound. “It’s okay, Pet. Master’s gonna take care of you. You’re gonna get to come, like I said. Because you earned it, sweet boy.”

The view from here, watching Jared’s carotid push against his flesh like a frog prepped to croak has Jensen remarkably uncomfortable in his slacks, free hand shaking with impatience, wanting to release his cock from its silk prison. He observes the way his pet’s body pulsates, thigh meat quivering with every lock of his knee against Jensen’s shoulder, abs pressing on his golden skin, chest rising and falling as he breathes in with all the grace of a newborn fawn.

Jensen’s eyes are seduced by the ongoing mural of Jared’s clean sweat coating the columns of his neck, creating a slick glow that the source of light flanking them bounces off of.

He takes him in his hand then. Jared’s cock springs up and Jensen begins the song. Well, it’s more accurate to say he conducts it, his hand passing over Jared’s raw flesh, thumb sweeping the slit of his cock to spread the pearl of essence around his swollen crown.

Jared sings for him. There is no rhythm. Nothing is in tune, but it’s a soundtrack that Jensen would gladly replay for the rest of his life, soaking up the broken moans falling from his pet’s lips.

They don’t have as long as he would like, unfortunately, or he would spend all night here watching Jared’s face and body contort in pleasure. He would bear witness to the struggle for his pet to stop from rising off the table, the conflict of his desire for pleasure and pleasing Jensen at war with each other.

One can’t exist without the other, just as peanut butter and jelly. Without its companion to enhance its worth, it loses its appeal. Some might like peanut butter. Some might like jelly. Those that like both, however, are treated to a mouthwatering combination that, when separated, just doesn’t have the same impact.

“Waist, Pet,” Jensen commands, working himself out of his pants. He’s hard and leaking, pre-come oozing down the underside of his cock. “I wish I could fuck you right now, sweetheart.” Jared whimpers, squirms and his arms bulge against his taut flesh. “I know. I know, Pet. I’m disappointed, too, but we don’t have time,” he explains, rubbing his cock into the groove of Jared’s groin as he takes him in hand again. He combines the slick from both of their cocks and uses it to start pumping Jared. “Say it, Pet. Master wants to hear you say it. Come on, my sweet boy.”

Jared smacks his head down, again, groaning low-to-high in his throat as he opens his eyes, lashes fluttering like sheets billowing on the wind.

“Sir—please. Please, Sir,” he moans, breath catching in his throat when Jensen runs the pads of his palm around the engorged head. “Can I come? Please? Please, Sir. I need to be good for you—I can do it. I know I can—so, _please_!”

Each desperate cry echos through Jensen’s ears, a symphony in his mind coming together as the syllables register one after the other. It makes his throat rumble, hand picking up speed.

He watches Jared bite into his lip, watches his eyes glaze over, watches his cock jerk and twitch in his hand, and that’s about as much of it as _he_ can take.

“Okay, Pet. Come for me. Come on, my precious boy.”

As if Jensen’s order releases the rope that drops the curtain on the final act, Jared’s cock erupts in his hand. Streams of thick, congealed cum spray Jared’s chest and stomach, already following the trails of clean sweat down to the islands countertop. His legs and hips spasm as four weeks of pent-up release empty out onto his golden coat, the convulsion of his abs causing the thick spindles to disperse, some dripping down to his groin—some spoiling the opposite side.

Jensen continues to jerk Jared’s cock after he’s done making a mess of himself. Part of him is vexed that he can’t prolong the stimulation, fingers playing the sensitive nerves of Jared’s crown like a bard regurgitating the epic tale of a fearsome hero. Each corporeal pluck builds towards a crescendo that tapers off as the inevitable end to the captivating story lilts into the ears of the awestruck spectators.

When Jared’s eyes blink to form a window of moisture, Jensen stills his hand. He commands Jared to turn himself. Jared does, his lips trembling the moment they brush the length of Jensen’s cock. The temptation to claim Jared’s mouth, to fill his throat is borderline crippling, but Jensen stops himself. He knows that he has to be elsewhere.

Nevertheless, his pet _always_ comes first.

“You want Master’s cock, don’t you, Pet?” Jared swallows. Jensen licks his lips and thrusts into the bend of his neck, blessing his skin with traces of his essence.

Arousal flits back and forth through Jensen’s cock, each stroke over Jared’s cheeks, lips, nose, forehead like a record skipping, his crown flaring up, pre-cum painting hot streaks as he goes.

“Absolutely beautiful, Pet,” he remarks and taps underneath Jared’s chin.

His pet’s mouth falls open for him, presenting his target. Jensen reclines his hips, takes himself in hand and jerks his cock furiously, a deep grunt emitting from his lips as he comes into Jared’s mouth, coating his tongue in slick lines, spraying the back of his throat, his teeth, his gums, his tonsils.

He squeezes off the last remnants, then uses the tip of his cock to gather and push the rest inside the opening, hissing at the drag of Jared’s soft, wet, soiled tongue.

“Wait until I soften.”

Jared’s throat clicks, but he doesn’t swallow. He stays stock still, eyes on Jensen, like the good pet that he is, and as soon as Jensen has softened in his mouth, he drinks his bounty, throat working three times to cleanse his pallet.

“Good boy. Such a good boy for your Master, huh?” Jensen says and pats Jared’s cheeks, holding his cock in his mouth. “Now clean me up.”

A whimper of need vibrates through Jensen’s cock as Jared closes his mouth and licks and sucks him clean. Jensen thumbs his cheeks and shushes him, trialling his fingers down to Jared’s long, gorgeous neck. He fingers the strap of his collar, stroking the soft padding on the inside.

“You’ve been so amazing today, Pet. You’ve made Master really proud. I have to go take care of something first, and then you can touch me while I work. Sound good?”

Jared hums and his entire form tenses and relaxes as Jensen pulls out of his mouth and tucks himself back into his pants.

“I thought you'd like that. I’ll even let you massage my feet,” Jensen adds, and Jared’s eyes widen a fraction, hands curling into fists. “Later, though. Get off the counter.” Jared rolls over, and, after a slight pause due to the apparent headrush, drops to his kneel, eyes glued to Jensen’s face. “Good pet. I think you’ve earned one more treat.”

If Jared had a tail, it would be wagging.

A _real_ tail.

Jensen reaches into the jar, hand coming back with a gummy worm held between the pads of his fingers. “Open.” Once Jared parts his lips, Jensen feeds him the treat, closes his mouth manually, bends to plant a kiss on his forehead and strokes his hair.

He rises back up and pulls Jared against his midriff, scratching the fine hair at his nape until Jared is sagging.

“Stay here, Pet. This won’t take long.”

Walking away from his pet is never easy, but Jensen does so with grace, casting a proud smile over one shoulder before his face hardens, fists eager to taste blood.

===

The recalcitrant waste of air has the decency to look like a deer caught in headlights as Jensen approaches, gait picking up, driven by the memory of this piece of filth insulting _his_ pet.

 _His_ Jared.

 _His_ everything.

 _His_ most _precious_ possession.

“Move,” he says to his subordinates, who back off instantly. The scum looks to them. Maybe he’s hoping they’ll save him. Too bad he’s not worth so much as a glance.

Jensen plants his fist in his face once he’s in reach, nose wrinkling in flagrant disgust. He falls back a couple of steps while clutching his leaking nose, a question in his eyes that fades when Jensen drags him towards him by his shirt and smashes their foreheads together.

Disregarding the dull ache, Jensen delivers three sickening blows to his side and drives his fist under his chin, forcing him off his feet and onto his back. He cries out, eyes tearing up from the pain, and Jensen grits his teeth, anger rising with his lack of _anything._

“You’re pathetic,” Jensen states, walking casually over to him, dropping into a crouch when he reaches his head. “Not even worth the effort,” he tells him, squeezes his hair in a vice grip, pulls his head up and pounds the space between his eyes, shaking his head as he falls unconscious.

Jensen thrusts a hand out, expecting there to be something to wipe them with. He closes his grip when he senses the texture of cotton brushing his skin, cleaning the blood off his hands. While he stains the towel red, he eyes the inert form taking up space on his floor. He throws the towel over his face when he’s finished, stands back up and walks away from him.

“Take him far. Leave him there. No food, no money—nothing. If anyone offers to help him, _encourage_ them not to. I want him to spend the rest of his miserable existence regretting his choice to _disrespect_ my _pet,_ and I want him to be an example. _No one_ gets away with insulting him. Got it?”

“Right away, Sir,” one of them replies, immediately moving to cart the comatose vermin off his property.

Now he can get back to his pet.

===

Jensen sips from his crystal tumbler, hand stroking Jared’s hair while he sleeps with his head facing his stomach. In front of him sits a laptop, the lid open, displaying a high-definition live feed of the cockroach that had the audacity to insult his pet three weeks ago today.

It shows him fighting with pigeons for the crusts off of bread scattered on the dirty pavement. He reaches for one, but a pigeon gets there first, side-eyeing him with apathy as it pecks and swallows.

He falls to his knees, broken. He looks up at the sky, asking for something.

No one answers.

No one cares.

He is _nothing._

**Author's Note:**

> Master Jensen is hot, right? ;)


End file.
